


99 Bottles

by dasseinhundin



Series: One Large Coffee, Cream No Sugar [1]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, F/M, Fakir ends up on the floor, Grad student Fakir, Grad student Mytho, Grad student Rue, Hopeless pining, Mytho please put on pants, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Senior Ahiru, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tumblr Prompt, coffee AU, minor alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasseinhundin/pseuds/dasseinhundin
Summary: Mytho stands and goes to make himself another drink. "I think that you should go for it."Fakir stares at him incredulously. "No. No more tequila for you, because you are clearly drunk if you think that my dating a student is even a remotely good idea."Mytho ignores him and continues to pour more tequila in the blender.[In which Mytho makes margaritas and is Generally Unhelpful while TA Fakir has an existential crisis about falling in love with one of the students in his senior seminar, but like hell he'd admit it.]





	99 Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> So I've decided to post/continue my Coffee AU from tumblr as a series. General timeline/ages are:
> 
> Fakir, 24 (doctoral student, TA, Poor Unfortunate Soul)  
> Ahiru, 20 (senior, studying journalism & dance, Bane of Fakir's Existence)  
> Mytho, 25 (photography grad student, Fakir's best friend/General Nuisance)  
> Rue, 22 (dance grad student, Ahiru's best friend, General Ruiner of Fakir's Life and Happiness)
> 
> Also I recommend listening to “The Science of Selling Yoursellf Short” by Less Than Jake for the optimal vibe. Alright y'all, let's rock n' roll

He is screwed.

"I am screwed."

Mytho glances down at him from his seat at the kitchen table, sipping idly on a margarita. The professor is sprawled across the laminate tile, feet elevated on a chair, sipping on a lukewarm beer. Fakir hates beer. It looks like piss and tastes like sewer water, but at least when he's drinking it he can focus on his hatred for  _that_  instead of his hatred for himself. He finishes it off in three long chugs, and waves his hand towards Mytho for another.

"You are screwed," Mytho agrees, handing him a new one from the twelve pack on the table.

"Did I tell you that she gave me a valentine? A valentine. It was this stupid little yellow paper duck with a lollipop and I kept it. I kept it." Fakir groans and runs a hand down his face in misery. " _Why did I keep it?_ " He whines.

The room feels hot, but the floor feels cool on his back. He pops the cap off of the bottle and relishes in its coldness despite the uncomfortable sensation of carbonation burning down his throat.

"Why, indeed." Mytho says airily.

Fakir opens an eye to glare at his best friend. Mytho meets his glare with a look of barely-veiled mirth, and it makes Fakir want to flick the cap at him. "You are incredibly unhelpful, you know that?"

"So you've told me before."

"I'm serious, Mytho. This is a problem. A  _huge_  problem."

"Not as big of a problem as we'll have when Rue comes back and sees you drunk on our kitchen floor. You know she still hasn't forgiven you for that B, right?"

"Okay first of all, I'm not on the floor because I'm  _drunk_ , I'm on the floor because your apartment is hotter than the seventh ring of Hell. If you're cold, put on pants." Fakir snaps. "Second of all, her argument was terrible in that essay. If she wanted an A, she should've read the literature more closely. Seriously, who the hell would ever argue that Romeo and Juliet had a functional relationship? Do you realize how many people ended up dead over those two?"

"I feel like that's a matter of opinion, Fakir. There's a reason why it's considered by many to be one of the greatest romantic pieces of all time."

Fakir scoffs. "Romeo & Juliet is not a romance, it's a  _tragedy_. The fact that it's regarded as such a romantic piece just goes to show how many morons inhabit the earth."

At the mentioning of morons, Fakir groans again. "Mytho, what am I going to do?"

"About what?"

Fakir makes to claw at his hair. " _About the fact that I'm attracted to one of my students!_ " He shouts.

"Why is this so upsetting? There's not a terribly large age gap between you two. Besides, she won't be your student much longer, right?"

"That's not the point! The point is that this is  _obscenely_  inappropriate and could cost me my  _job_."

Mytho hums, taking another sip of his margarita.

"Well, would it be worth it?"

Fakir swallows another sip of beer. "Would  _what_  be worth it?"

"Would Ahiru be worth it?"

Fakir pauses, then turns his head away. "No."

"You're lying, Fakir."

Fakir sits up, scowling. "I am not! Nothing is worth losing my job over. You know how hard I worked to get this job. I am not getting fired my first year over some idiot who thought that  _Animal Farm_  was a  _children's tale_."

He takes another disgruntled swig of his rapidly warming beer. The room feels even hotter than before, and if he weren't in the middle of an existential crisis he'd get up and open the window to let in some of the cool March air. Maybe even rip out the thermostat while he's at it because  _who the hell keeps their heat on 80 degrees_ , but for now he settles with lying back down on the cool tiled floor to continue wallowing in his own self-pity.

Mytho stands and goes to make himself another drink. "I think that you should go for it."

Fakir stares at him incredulously. "No.  _No more tequila for you_ , because you are  _clearly_  drunk if you think that my dating a student is even a remotely good idea."

Mytho ignores him and continues to pour more tequila in the blender. "But why is it so inappropriate? If you simply wait until she's no longer in your class it should be alright, no? You'd both be two consenting adults with no conflict of interest."

Fakir strains to talk over the roar of the blender. "It doesn't matter if she's in my class or not, she's still a student and I'm a professor. As long as she goes to this school, it's against the code of conduct. I'd lose my fellowship, my credentials, everything."

"So just wait until she graduates. That's only another year, yeah?"

"You say it like it's that easy. I shouldn't even be  _considering this_!"

Mytho shrugs. "Why not? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to wait."

Fakir sits up so quickly that his head smashes into the corner of the table. He shouts and collapses again, swearing as he clutches his forehead. Yeah, that's definitely going to bruise.

"Are you alright, Fakir?" Mytho asks.

"No!" He snaps. "I'm at the risk of losing my job, this beer that you bought tastes like actual sewage, my head is  _pounding_ , and I think—"

Fakir abruptly cuts himself off. No. No. He is not even going to think of going down that road right now, because saying it out loud means that it is real and there is not enough booze in the world to deal with  **that**  revelation.

"You think what?"

Fakir shakes his head, scowling. "I think that I'm not  _nearly_  intoxicated enough to finish that train of thought."

Mytho blinks, and simply holds out his drink to Fakir in silent offering.

"Get that away from me," He hisses, "And would you  ** _put on some pants_**?"

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. And now I'm telling you to drop it."

"Drop what?"

Fakir freezes like a deer in headlights, and the room shoots up another ten degrees when he sees Rue and Ahiru standing in the kitchen's doorway. Rue looks like she has just eaten an entire lemon in one bite, and Ahiru looks just as shocked and mortified as he feels. They must look like quite the sight: a pantsless Mytho clutching a margarita while kneeling next to a disheveled Fakir, who is sprawled across the floor like one of the several empty bottles of beer scattered around him.

"Professor Lohen?" Ahiru squeaks. "What are you doing here? And oh my  _gosh what happened to your_ _ **head**_ _?!_ "

The prettiest blush spreads across her freckled cheeks and Fakir feels the urge to smash his head against the table again. Somehow, against all laws of physics and basic biology, Fakir is simultaneously too drunk and too sober to deal with this. So he takes the only course of action that comes to mind: he grabs his jacket, grabs the drink from Mytho's hands, and downs it in one go before fleeing the apartment entirely.


End file.
